


The Treehouse

by castielsass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom!Danny, Light BDSM, M/M, sub!Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:25:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson knew what he wanted now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Treehouse

The killer of it was that everyone assumed Jackson had been told he was adopted when he was just a kid. Young and fragile enough that it shook the foundations of himself and everything he was supposed to call home, enough lies and callousness to explain away the worst parts of him. If a hinge still works, nobody cares that it's broken. The way other people wore kindness, the parts they showed to others to imply their true selves, the way other people wore lies, was how Jackson wore the truth. He wasn't a kid when his parents told him he was adopted. He was fifteen. 

Maybe old enough, they figured, to be able to come to terms with it. Jackson could understand it. When he woke up in the morning, with a few seconds of unfettered reality in his hands, he thought he could understand waiting so long. They wanted to give him time to understand he was still their son. They wanted him to be old enough to understand fully, they wanted him to be old enough to be able to talk back, ask questions, demand answers. But then like always, Jackson’s emotions, so tied into his logic weaved back through reason and all he could feel, hot and tight in the softest part of his throat wasn’t neat enough for him to be able to word. It wasn't anything concrete, just a constant thrumming next to his heartbeat, overpowering his heartbeat _not enough, un-son, Jackson honey-kid-we’re not real-not your biological-parents._  
The first person he _told_ was Danny. The only one who hadn’t just found it out when his parents had sighed to the other parents in town about how badly he was taking it, all those people who saw him and judged him and _knew_ and worse _pitied_ him. Pitied him, the people who walked past the mansion he lived in, saw the Porsche his father had bought for him already, before he could even drive, they had the balls to pity him. And telling Danny wasn’t even his choice, not really. In the treehouse Jackson’s father had paid to have built for them, Danny sat with his calves crossed, one foot on top of each knee and Jackson tried to copy him. Danny had nudged him and said _I’ll give you a secret if you give me one_. Just like that, _I’ll give you a secret_ and Jackson liked that. So Jackson shrugged and said “I’m adopted,” and Danny returned “I’m gay,” and Jackson nodded and Danny smiled and that was it. It didn’t really matter that everyone in town already knew Jackson was adopted or that they had already seen Danny kissing a boy outside the video store, because those were stolen secrets. What mattered was that even though Danny already knew Jackson was adopted, he didn’t just say it, take that knowledge and wield it like it was his to use. He asked for it, _balanced_ it. It was a secret, but Danny had let Jackson give it to him.  
That day Jackson decided Danny was his best friend, and Danny let him. 

 

There was another time, in the treehouse when Danny told him he was dating someone _someone I think you’ll really like_ , and Jackson was filled up with rage. Someone was taking Danny away from him and Danny thought he’d _like_ him? In an incomprehensible moment Jackson dove at Danny, teeth clenched hard enough to leave powder on his tongue and he’d shrieked “I hate thieves, hate-“ and he landed on Danny hard enough to knock him to the floor of the treehouse. Danny had let out the tiniest grunt and Jackson shook with fury. He got in one punch to Danny’s chest, one knee digging into his belly and he could hear himself shouting, Danny trying to reason with him, his eyes getting darker. Jackson didn’t stop until Danny locked two big hands tight around his wrists and _growled_ “Off. You _stop_ that, stop it now!” and Jackson jerked back. But the grip Danny had on his wrists threw off his centre of gravity and he half leaned over Danny, knees spread wide and shaking, forced to lean all his weight on his wrists, on Danny’s tight hands wrapped fiercely angry around him, _making_ him be still and in a moment, Jackson was blindingly hard. Danny swallowed and Jackson tensed up, sure he had seen it and Danny let go of his wrists suddenly. Jackson almost fell forward but Danny gave him a terrified shove off and Jackson felt ill suddenly. He opened his mouth to apologise, to explain it away _somehow_ , because Jackson wasn’t even sure of what had happened when Danny muttered “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” and Jackson felt his insides curl up in cold unrestrained rejection and fury and he grit his teeth-until. Danny shoved his hands against the floor and pushed himself back and Jackson let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, because Danny was _hard._ Jackson gasped out and Danny’s eyes dropped to the floor and he pulled his knees up to his chest, mumbling another apology.

Jackson didn’t quite know what to do then, so like always he let his emotions control him, and all he knew was that it was wrong for Danny to look so uncertain, to look like he was almost ashamed of himself. Danny should never look powerless. So Jackson sat back on his ass and spread his legs, dropped them loose enough for the side of each knee to hit the wooden floor with a soft thunk and he said “No, it’s ok, look. It’s ok. Right?”  
Danny glanced up to see Jackson’s dick poking hard against his jeans and his chin lifted a little. Jackson wanted to tell him something, but he didn’t have the words to explain that it was ok for Jackson to do this, spread his legs and humiliate himself, to be uncertain. Danny should never look embarrassed, and Jackson struggled for the words to say _it’s ok if I don’t have any power, as long as you do_ , but he didn’t have them, so instead he let Danny get up on his knees and look over him. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel or do, if this were a girl he’d be mortified, or falsely lascivious, he would be fighting for the upper hand. But this was Danny and Danny didn’t ever expect anything from him, so Jackson let himself feel the sick thrill in his stomach when Danny looked at his cock and his throat and his wrists. Something in the moment broke when Jackson’s mother called them down to help her with something in the garden, and when Danny climbed down first, Jackson took the extra second he had to wrap one hard around his wrist, matching up the crescent shape Danny’s nails had made in his pale skin and digging in further, giving himself a perfect replica of the mark, squeezing harder than Danny had dared, hard enough to bruise. When the day was gone and Danny had disappeared home, Jackson went to bed to bury his face in the pillow and wrap one hand punishingly tight around his cock, his teeth matched up as close as possible to the imprint Danny’s fingers had left around his wrist like a bracelet. After he came, with a quiet sob and the taste of blood against his tongue, Jackson rolled onto his back and put two fingers in his mouth, sucking, thinking. The best gifts Jackson had gotten were the ones Danny gave him, the ones like the secrets, things others could see, but nobody else really knew the meaning of. Jackson looked at the bruise on his wrist and something stirred in his belly, in the same place he had felt that thrill earlier. But it was a different kind now, lazier and more certain. Jackson knew what he wanted now. 

 

It took time, too much of it before Jackson could rile Danny up enough. Danny was difficult to enrage, Jackson had never really noticed before. It took him driving off after lacrosse practice, _forgetting_ to drive Danny home for the third day in a row before Danny snapped. Jackson was on his way out, slinking past the locker room door quickly, resigned to figuring out another way when a hand clasped tight around his wrist and yanked him back. His first reaction was to hiss and tug his wrist away, because it wasn’t anyone’s to touch but Danny’s when he realised it was Danny in front of him, teeth grit and tense. He shoved Jackson up against the stone of the most hidden outside wall of the locker room and Jackson automatically pushed his hips forward. He could feel the assessing look Danny gave him deep under his skin, Danny’s eyes intense; from the flush of his cheeks to the ways his feet were planted apart on the floor. “You _fucking dick._ ”  
“Please,” Jackson whispered, rolling his hips forward once before Danny planted his hand flat against the lowest part of his belly, sliding down until his palm was flat against thin hair, the head of Jackson’s cock against the back of Danny’s hand. Danny looked _furious_ and Jackson shut his eyes, letting his hips sink back against the wall, cockhead rubbing precome over the back of Danny’s hand.  
“You don’t…” Danny struggled for a second before exhaling in a hiss and shoving Jackson tight against the wall. “You don’t just…use me, and _take_ what you want, you fucking dick, you. You’re supposed.” Danny swallowed hard and Jackson let out the stupidest fucking whimper when his nails bit into the softest part of Jackson’s belly. “You’re gonna fucking ask. From now on, you don’t, you never take from me. When you need it,” Danny dropped his head and stared until Jackson opened his eyes, “You ask me. Do you understand?”  
Jackson nodded hard and when Danny dropped his hand from his belly he tossed his head, trying to rustle up anger, but all he felt was shaky and cold; like he wanted to go to bed. Danny wavered for a minute and then he handed his lacrosse bag to Jackson and gave him a gentle push when he turned, hand flat between his shoulder blades. “Drive us home, alright?” and Jackson nodded and put Danny’s bag in the back seat. When they got to Jackson’s house, Danny left his lacrosse bag in the car and made Jackson climb up the ladder to the treehouse first.  
In the treehouse, Danny sat with his ankles crossed over each other and he pulled Jackson down into his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist. Jackson struggled for a second with the position but Danny wrapped his hand snug around Jackson’s left wrist and held it there, tight against his belly and Jackson let out a tiny broken sigh. He didn’t even argue when Danny told him to take out his cock, he just lifted his ass enough to let Danny tug his jeans down awkwardly and pulled his underwear underneath his balls. When Danny wrapped his hand Jackson’s cock and squeezed gently, Jackson took a glance down and decided the dark, smooth skin of Danny’s hand, the calloused side of his palm sliding up the pale pink tip of his cock was the prettiest fucking thing he’d ever seen. 

The first time Danny fucked him was for punishment for something stupid he had said on the lacrosse field. Jackson couldn’t even remember it now, with the choking full stretch of Danny’s cock actually inside him, some snide remark about Stilinski’s father. On the field Danny hadn’t even said anything when Stilinski’s face turned red and angry under his helmet, but he’d rested his hand on the back of Jackson’s neck and Jackson knew he had stepped too far. He might not have pushed it if he’d had the skill of reading other people’s faces and emotions like Danny had, might have seen when he pressed Stilinski too far, but Jackson had never been good at reading anyone’s emotions except for Danny’s. It might not have been the most romantic reason to have sex for the first time, but Jackson felt nothing but pity for anyone who couldn’t find the romance in Danny’s hand wrapped around his throat, the weight of him stretched across his skin, then tug and _slide_ of his cock in him.  
It had never really mattered when they both dated other people. Jackson had Lydia and Danny had Steven, and it wasn’t cheating if they’d been doing it all their lives, right? It was just…breathing. Jackson didn’t know if Steven knew about them, but he figured Lydia was too smart not to have realised already. She didn’t seem to mind, and maybe that was the harm in it, that’s what really ended their relationship; that they both figured Danny didn’t count. But maybe after the worst months of Jackson’s life, when his bite rejected, when nobody could understand him; not even Danny, when he lost the last vestiges of whatever the fuck had ever remained of his innocence, maybe which was the push that ended the relationship. Jackson preferred to say it was Danny. Then at least it sounded like he had some semblance of control in his life.  
That might’ve been what broke him after it all. Danny had stopped helping him, or Jackson had stopped asking, he couldn’t remember. Everything he never even knew existed was building up inside him, people he didn’t know were taking control of him and Jackson _hated_ it. He got to choose who deserved to control him, that was how it had always and _should_ always be and it was never going to be the creepy fucking camera guy, or a geriatric psychopath, and the fact that they had tried and succeeded for even a short time was the worst thing Jackson could think of. Almost as bad as the fact that Jackson had been used by someone he didn’t give permission to, to things so incomprehensibly awful. But then Jackson didn’t really let himself think about that. 

Instead, he broke up with Lydia without cruelty for once; which was probably how she knew it was for real. He pushed himself out of the lacrosse field, forcing himself past his limits and he ignored Danny for days and days. Until they lost a match. Nothing big or even important, almost a play fight against another team and Jackson wanted to kill something, except he didn’t because he knew what that felt like. So instead of crashing his car into a house, he drove to Danny’s house and stormed up to his bedroom where he was reading and he picked the book out and laid it on the table and said quietly, “Please.”  
Danny picked his book back up and found its ribbon. “I’m not gonna fuck you,” he said, sliding the silk between the pages and shutting it. Jackson hissed out loud and choked on it. He lashed out and Danny’s book fell to the floor. Danny sighed quietly.  
“Pick it up.”  
“ _No,”_ Jackson snarled. He lifted a foot to stamp on the stupid fucking book but Danny’s hand shot out and held his knee too tightly, keeping him unbalanced on one foot.  
“Pick it up.”  
Jackson snorted and before he knew what he was doing, he tried to kick Danny’s hand off and he didn’t know what to do, because that could have hurt him.  
“Pick it up, Jackson.”  
“No!” Jackson screamed, and ducked down, unbalanced with Danny’s hand on his knee. He grabbed the book with shaking hands and threw it on the bed. Danny’s hand slid off his leg. When Jackson dropped the book, there was a wet droplet on the hard cover and Jackson hissed, swiping a hand angrily over his cheek. Danny stood up and let Jackson fall against him, sobbing in hurt and anger.  
“Come here, come on now,” Danny coaxed. Jackson felt his head shift on Danny’s chest when he leaned down and picked something out of the drawer. Jackson’s eyes were bleary, but he trusted Danny, and Danny led him to the wall. 

“Toes against the wall, feet hip-width apart. Come on, now Jacks,” Danny coaxed and Jackson obeyed, of his own fucking choice for once and he felt like it was vengeance. 

Danny held a white pingpong ball against the wall, just above where the tip of Jackson’s nose was.  
When he was positioned correctly, Danny placed a hand into his hair gently and eased him forward until his nose rested against the ball.  
“Keep it still, keep it up. You’re not allowed to use your hands, or any part of you except your nose. I want you to keep it right there for 3 minutes, do you think you can do that?” Jackson would have punched him but he knew Danny was really asking him, asking if he could do this.  
“Yeah. Yes,” he said, his voice an unattractive croak from tears. 

“Good boy,” Danny whispered and Jackson shut his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to start counting now,” he said, stepping away and letting go of the ball.  
It immediately wobbled and Jackson was forced to lift his chin a little, pressing his nose more firmly against the wall to keep the ball still. It was far more difficult than it had seemed and as each second stretched into an eternity, Jackson’s neck ached, and his nose twitched white and tingling. Before he could save the ball, it fell and bounced away. Not wanting to move, he looked up at Danny who was sitting in the chair by his bookshelves, watching him. Jackson swallowed.  
“Could you get that for me, please?”  
Danny smiled at him. Jackson’s stomach turned over, and he gave a smirk back. Pleased he had done something right, finally, he didn’t complain when Danny placed the ball back against the wall and murmured, “An extra 30 seconds.”  
Jackson just gave a tiny nod and at the last twenty seconds Danny’s hand curved around the base of his neck, helping support his head and keeping the ball still. Danny counted down quietly and at the final number he took the ball away and Jackson sighed, dropping his head back against Danny’s shoulder. Danny rubbed soothingly at the tight muscles in Jackson’s neck before he turned him around to let him lean against his chest.

“You did really well. I’m so proud of you, you did so good-” Danny murmured and Jackson let a sob into his chest, pushing a little against him. Danny lead Jackson back to his bed and let him lay on the soft nest of blankets, still warm and sweet smelling before he climbed in beside him, tugging him half over so he was lying mostly on Danny. Jackson sniffed hard and tugged a blanket over them fully, sighing when Danny’s hand slid down from sore muscles to the dip of his back. Danny rubbed soothing circles and like the first time, Jackson lifted up to let Danny pull his pants and underwear down. Unlike the first time, Danny stripped him bare and pressed him back against the bed, only opening up his own jeans enough to shove his underwear down his thighs, laying on top of Jackson. Hips pressed tight against each other Danny let Jackson bury his face into his the dip between his neck and shoulder while he spread his legs and rocked up against Danny. Danny whispered and Jackson let the noise wash over him, the gentle lulling rhythm of compliments and sweetness not registering fully until Danny murmured “-should find some different way to reward you, maybe let you fuck me-“ and Jackson choked and shoved his hips up hard, dick jammed painfully tight against Danny’s. Danny slipped his hand down Jackson’s back, the other gripping his hair tightly and lifting him to kiss. Danny pressed in with his tongue and let the pad of his finger sweep over the tight skin of Jackson’s hole, the rhythm counterpointed by Jackson’s hips thrusting back and forward. Danny paused for a second to lift Jackson’s legs up high around his waist, using the leverage to unbalance Jackson, make him writhe between Danny’s cock against his and his finger pressed against his hole. 

“Fuck, I,” Jackson muttered into Danny’s ear, hands pressed against his shoulder blades, nails digging scratches into the skin.  
“Yeah, I know,” Danny mumbled, hand drifting down to hike Jackson’s leg up higher on his hip, “I love you too.”

Jackson made a pathetic noise and dug his nails into Danny’s back when he came. Sinking back into the blankets, he rubbed the pads of his fingertips over each scratch, sleepily warning Danny not to mock him for them in the morning. After Danny grunted and came, pleasantly warm against Jackson’s belly, he laughed and Jackson grinned.  
“I will always mock you for them, you scratch like a cat. In _heat_.”  
Jackson smirked and rolled over, “You wish I was a cat in heat.”  
Danny just laughed again, and lay over Jackson’s back. “That doesn’t even make _sense,_ you fucking asshole.”  
“You wish I was a fucking asshole,” Jackson mumbled into the pillow and Danny snorted, dimples digging sweet half moons into his cheeks. Jackson touched one with his thumb.  
“You _are_ a fucking asshole,” Danny said. “But it’s ok.”  
“’Cause I’m your fucking asshole?”  
Danny shook his head, arm already going dead under the point of Jackson’s chin. “Dumbass. ’Cause you’ve always been a fucking asshole. It’s good to have you back.”


End file.
